A presidential decree signed in May 2024. A financial mechanism worth potentially billions of FCFA. A new defense architecture. A cabinet reshuffle that stripped the prime minister of the finance portfolio. Then, a new community mobilization structure emerged.
Viewed individually, these events might appear to be routine administrative or military decisions. Viewed together, they raise a far more sensitive question: who actually controls the manpower, resources and levers of national defense in Niger?
At the center of this entanglement are three major figures: General Abdourahamane Tiani, General Salifou Mody and former Prime Minister Lamine Zeine.
The core of the matter involves the Commandement des Forces de Protection et de Développement (CFPD) and, more recently, the community self-defense organizations known as “Domol Leydi.”
But behind these two structures lies a third, less visible yet decisive issue: money.
Decree 2024-309: a new defense architecture
On 9 May 2024, Decree No. 2024-309/P/CNSP/MDN established the Commandement des Forces de Protection et de Développement.
The mechanism is not symbolic. It was designed to help protect mining and oil sites, strategic infrastructure, corridors and several development projects. The Agence Nigérienne de Presse at the time presented the CFPD as an instrument intended notably to secure extractive resources, the WAPCO pipeline, CNPC-NP, SORAZ and strategic corridors.
The decree also provides for a specific financial mechanism. And that is where the matter takes on a different dimension.
A military force does not operate on manpower and orders alone. It requires equipment, transport, food, logistics, maintenance and, above all, regular funding. The text organizes precisely this machinery.
Article 28: the 12,000 FCFA daily rate and a potential 21.9 billion FCFA a year
Article 28 of the decree states that corporate contributions are collected on the basis of contracts signed with the state, and that a Prime Unique d’Astreinte is paid to the CFPD according to actual troop numbers.
The minimum rate indicated is 12,000 FCFA per man per day. The text also details several components of this envelope: daily duty allowance, food, hygiene, operations and maintenance.
Based on a hypothetical force of 5,000 men, the order of magnitude reaches about 60 million FCFA per day, or nearly 1.8 billion per month and approximately 21.9 billion over a year.
But one clarification is essential: this is a projection calculated from the theoretical troop strength and the mechanism set out in the text, not proof that such sums were actually collected.
That is precisely what makes investigation necessary. The real question is not only: “How much could the mechanism generate?” It is far more precise: How much was actually committed? How much was paid? For how many men? For what missions? And to which beneficiaries?
The CFPD exists and operates
It would be too simplistic, however, to present the CFPD as an abandoned structure.
In 2026, Defense Minister Salifou Mody publicly stated that personnel from the Force de Protection et de Développement were engaged in securing economic installations, notably at pipeline-related posts.
The problem is therefore more complex. The CFPD exists. It is officially integrated into the defense architecture. It carries out certain missions.
But another question remains: does its actual functioning correspond entirely to the architecture, troop strength and financial mechanism initially planned?
This is where administrative and financial documents become essential. Between planned and actually deployed troop numbers, between theoretically mobilizable and actually paid sums, there can be a considerable gap. And that gap must be documented.
Who controls the financial chain?
According to information reported in this case, CFPD funding was at the heart of tensions between different power centers.
One particularly sensitive piece of information attributes to President Tiani an instruction aimed at not implementing certain financial provisions of the mechanism. At this stage, no public document consulted allows this instruction to be formally established.
But if confirmed, the scope of the matter would go far beyond a simple administrative difficulty. It would raise a major institutional question: how can a mechanism created by decree function when some of its financial provisions are deliberately prevented or delayed?
The question is all the more important because the decree itself organizes the CFPD’s resources and their use.
The Finance Ministry at the heart of the problem
The alleged conflict then takes on a broader dimension. On one side, Defense seeks the means necessary for its missions. On the other, the ministry responsible for finance must control public resources and their use. Above both sits the political authority that arbitrates.
It is this articulation that must be examined. For in a highly centralized defense system, controlling resources also means controlling operational capacity. Whoever controls the credits controls part of the means. Whoever controls troop numbers controls another part of the power. And whoever arbitrates between the two holds the ultimate lever.
Zeine loses finance but keeps the premiership
In January 2026, Lamine Zeine lost the Economy and Finance portfolio while retaining the premiership. This change merits attention, as it alters the distribution of levers without necessarily changing the overall political balance.
The question then becomes: why strip Zeine of direct control over finances while keeping him at the head of government?
According to information reported in this case, General Mody subsequently considered taking the head of government, with the possibility of combining it with Defense. This information is not established by the public documents consulted.
But if confirmed, it would reveal a much deeper issue: the concentration in the same hands of the two main levers of state power Defense and the Premiership.
Domol Leydi enters the scene
Then a new stage begins. In late 2025, Niger adopted an ordinance instituting general mobilization. The authorities present it as a mechanism designed to enable the transition from a state of peace to a state of war and to mobilize the human, material and financial resources necessary for the defense of the homeland.
Within this framework, community self-defense organizations called “Domol Leydi” appear. The Defense Minister himself explained in April 2026 that these organizations must work under the control and supervision of the Defense and Security Forces.
The mechanism therefore officially responds to a security logic. But its appearance raises a strategic question: why multiply mobilization and protection mechanisms when a specialized command like the CFPD already exists?
The missions are not identical. The CFPD is a military structure responsible notably for protecting strategic interests. Domol Leydi is more a matter of territorial mobilization and community self-defense.
But both mechanisms meet on common ground: manpower, security, resources and the chain of command.
The real problem: blurred lines between mechanisms
From this point, a question becomes unavoidable: where does the CFPD’s role end and Domol Leydi’s begin?
Who recruits? Who trains? Who equips? Who finances? Who gives orders? Who controls the men? And above all, who answers politically and legally when something goes wrong?
These questions are not secondary. The more a state multiplies structures involved in security, the more essential clarity in the chain of command becomes. Sovereignty is not measured solely by the number of soldiers mobilized. It is also measured by the state’s ability to know who commands whom, with what means and under what control.
The mystery of troop numbers
This may be one of the keys to the case. The CFPD’s financial mechanism is calculated according to actual troop numbers. This means an apparently technical question becomes politically fundamental: how many men were actually deployed and how many actually generated expenses under the mechanism?
The answer should be found in administrative documents: troop strength reports, mission orders, attendance records, security contracts, expenditure commitments, payment orders, execution reports.
Without these documents, the billions remain projections. With them, it becomes possible to precisely reconstruct the financial reality of the mechanism.
Who controls the contracts?
The decree provides that corporate contributions are based on contracts established between these companies and the state. This provision opens another avenue of investigation.
Which companies signed these contracts? What amounts were agreed? What security services were planned? How many personnel were to be assigned to each site? Were the services actually performed? Were the corresponding sums fully paid? And above all: which administration ensures control of this financial chain?
These answers would determine whether the matter is a simple operational problem or a much more serious dysfunction.
When security becomes a question of power
At this stage, the case ceases to be a simple matter of decree. It touches the very structure of power.
The CFPD concentrates manpower and missions. Companies may contribute to its funding according to the planned mechanism. The Defense Ministry supervises the operational dimension. Finance necessarily intervenes in the public resource chain. The Premiership constitutes another coordination center. And the presidency retains supreme political authority.
In other words, several essential levers intersect around a single mechanism. This is precisely what makes any opacity concerning.
High treason cannot be treated lightly
The term “high treason” is extremely heavy. It cannot simply be used to describe a political conflict or a bad administrative decision.
Nigerien law has historically associated this notion with particularly serious attacks on the fundamental interests of the state. The 2010 Constitution, for example, referred notably to breach of oath, certain grave human rights violations, fraudulent cession of part of the territory or compromising national interests in the management of natural resources.
The current institutional situation must, however, be assessed in light of the Charter of Refoundation, which is now the fundamental text governing public authorities during this period.
Therefore, the journalistic issue is not to declare that “high treason” is already established. The real question is more demanding: if public officials knowingly diverted, paralyzed or manipulated a strategic defense mechanism for personal or factional interests, what legal and institutional consequences could follow? This question can only be settled by evidence.
The most sensitive scenario: instrumentalization of defense resources
This is the heart of the matter. A state facing a major security threat creates a mechanism to protect its strategic resources. A financial mechanism is planned. Troops are to be mobilized. Companies are called upon to contribute.
If, at the same time, personal or institutional rivalries were to determine who receives the means, who controls them or who can prevent their implementation, then the problem would no longer be merely administrative. It would directly affect the governance of national defense.
But this hypothesis must still be demonstrated. It requires documents, corroborating testimonies and financial traceability.
Numbers will speak louder than speeches
The authorities can speak of sovereignty. Military officials can speak of mobilization. Press releases can speak of security. But documents will tell another story: that of expenses actually incurred.
It will therefore be necessary to compare: announced versus actual troop numbers; planned versus executed missions; theoretical amounts versus actual payments; signed contracts versus services actually provided; announced structures versus their actual functioning.
It is this confrontation that will determine the real scope of the case.
The question that remains
The CFPD-Domol Leydi case alone does not establish an accusation of high treason. But it raises enough questions to justify a thorough examination of the chain of command, troop numbers, contracts and especially financial flows.
For when a defense mechanism is associated with potentially considerable resources, the issue cannot be solely about who commands the men. It must also be about: who controls the money; who controls the contracts; who verifies troop numbers; who controls the services; who can block or unblock resources; and who is ultimately accountable for their use.
This is perhaps the real crux of the matter. And if documentary evidence were to show that private interests had effectively taken precedence over national defense interests, the question would no longer be a simple power struggle between officials. It would become a question of state.
For in matters of national defense, diverting resources, manipulating structures or deliberately neutralizing a strategic mechanism would not be a simple power quarrel: it would potentially be a serious attack on the fundamental interests of the nation.
For now, established facts, source claims and hypotheses must be carefully distinguished. But one thing is certain: the only way to lift the veil on this case will be to follow the men, the orders, the contracts and, above all, the money.
By Jean Nguimfack — Reporter
